Forgotten One
by Kurai-onii
Summary: Canada gives his thoughts on being ignored. Mentions of self harm and suicide. Says hurt/comfort, it's really just hurt though. No happy ending here, and it's kind of confusing. Horrid summary, not one to judge if the story is any better. R&R.


A/N: So, I was writing a poem type test thingy about me, but it somehow turned into a Canada tragedy about 100 words in… I haven't updated in a while, but my computer broke and I had to get a new one… and I lost all my files… but I did find one I lost a little over 3 months ago, that's incomplete and poorly written. Well, enough rambling. I hope you enjoy your depressing fanfiction.

-I don't own anything, but my sad excuse for a fan fiction.-

I am the forgotten one.

The one in the back of the room that no one can see. I may as well not exist, at least then the pain I endure might cease. They always apologize when I correct them after they've forgotten me. They somehow mistake me for him. Though the differences between us are larger the tallest of mountains. If they really cared they could see the urgency in my eyes. My mouth says I forgive them, but my heart aches with the agony I feel. As they walk away, leaving me alone again, I reach out to them. Silently pleading them to come back, knowing there's already a large possibility that they forgot who I am as soon as they turned around. Only then do I let my true emotions show. I can't let them see me cry. Why bother them with my silly insecurities and troubles? I wish I wasn't such a coward. Maybe then I wouldn't cause the seething pain to cure me of the loneliness.

It feels like acid burning through my flesh, it makes everything else go away. Pain… pain… pain. Crimson blood soaks the sheets and carpet. Drip, drip, drip. I can no longer tell the dripping of the blood from the dripping of my own tears. I puncture my arms with pins and needles, an old therapeutic practice. It's supposed to make everything better, and it does for a short time, but then the horrible reality crashes upon me again. Piercing the skin of the lonely, the skin of the forgotten. Tears leak from violet eyes like a broken faucet, they just don't stop. "You're weak," they say. They say it jokingly, but I can't deny them the fact that they're right. I'm so incredibly weak…

Liar… liar… liar they chant. I'm not lying. Just pretending. Pretending to be okay, pretending to be happy. The pain helps draw away the anger, draws away the loneliness that weighs heavily on my already aching heart. Do they even know what this is doing to me? If they did, would they care? I highly doubt it. They don't trust the liar. They don't trust the forgotten. They don't trust the one who suffers quietly... all alone. I'm all alone. I'll always be alone. Just let them forget. Who says I need them to remember me? Bring on the pain; it dulls the pain of going unnoticed. Why can't they see me? I'm so clearly standing right here.

Being forgotten hurts, but not as much as the pain I inflict on myself. My failures seem to haunt me, following me wherever I may go. The reflection in the mirror mocks me. It's violet eyes look dead, its skin deathly pale. "This is what I've let myself become," I whisper sadly. As I stand there forcing a smile, everyone around me chatters happily. I try to speak, but my words fall on deaf ears. They'll never listen. I'll always be invisible.

My silent pleas for help have not worked. As I sit in my room with a knife at my wrists, I cry. I cry as loudly as I please. It won't matter. They can't hear me. Ending this suffering is so much easier than enduring it. Things don't always get better. There are times when you get knocked down once too many, and you decide you don't want to get back up. Because life will just knock you down again, even harder, if you do. There's only so much you can take, and you come to a crossroads. Your life or theirs? I can't possibly say my life. What meaning does my life hold? The cold steel of this unforgiving blade is my savior tonight.

If they can't see while I live, maybe it will change when I am finally gone. Maybe they'll see the pain they've put me through. They'll realize that they shouldn't have let me go. Maybe they'll beg for a second chance to prove they're sorry. And maybe not. If not… well… the world will keep on turning.

For I am the forgotten one.


End file.
